Sleeping Awake
by ParallelDimension75
Summary: Maia O'Harris had a perfectly normal life... until she woke up in a different world, with no memory of her 'dream' world, as Rynne, the cursed, monstrous daughter of the very evil witch Maleficent. Now Rynne is fighting Kings, monsters, surprisingly painful Fairy magic and her own mother to boot. If only she could go back to sleep... but she's awake now, and there's no going back.
1. Dreaming Awake

"She will wake soon," one of the men said fearfully. "We must be ready."

The men were sitting in a large cave with one tunnel leading out. Torches hung on the walls, the huge domed ceiling covered in stalactites. In the centre of the cave was a smooth stone table, and lying on the table was the subject of the men's conversation.

"She's a monster," one of the others said, spitting on the floor next to him. "They shoulda killed 'er when they 'ad the chance."

The first shook his head. "If she's killed, the princess's protection'll wear off."

The others muttered and scuffed they're boots. The thirteen year old girl on the table was no girl, in their opinion.

She had an eerily light mint green face, hands and feet. The rest of her body was covered in thick black scales. Her closed eyes were a luminescent yellow underneath. Her long black hair fanned out beneath her face like waves of shadow. Her lips were red like blood, as were her long, sharp, hard fingernails. On top her head were two sharp black horns, ridged like a dragon's.

This girl had slept since birth, under a curse. She had grown in sleep, never moving, only breathing. Her eyelids never fluttered. Her face was beautiful but in a dark, haunting way that made you shudder and shiver, yet you couldn't tear your eyes away. She was the first Sleeping Beauty. The other would sleep almost thee years later.

* * *

Thirteen year old Maia O'Harris rode her bicycle through the small town of Thorne, in South Yorkshire. She had just moved from the busy London a few days ago, and today was the first day she was allowed out on her own. Saturday.

The late Autumn wind nipping at her bare fingers. Her brown jacket, short grey skirt, black stockings, black shoes and navy turtleneck were not as warm as other clothing, but Maia didn't feel the cold so easily. Her wavy, deep brown hair was just past her shoulder blades, being tossed this way and that in the wind. Her eyes were sad and lonely, one seeming hazel, the other a milk chocolate brown. Her pale cheeks were slightly rosy.

"Why is everything here so _quiet?_" She said under her breath. A young girl on the other side of the road stared at her, clutching her mother's arm, wide blue eyes curious and afraid. Maia shuddered at her stare, feeling the girl's gaze pierce her shoulder like a mental thorn.

Maia shook off the feeling and turned the bike to the left, following Southfield Road until she got to the cemetery. At this late hour, there were almost no people around.

Maia looked around, left her bike off the ground and ran past the small building to the centre. For an hour she scoured the graves, eyes hopefully scanning each one until they were all met with the same crestfallen look. Finally, her eyes alighted on a gravestone; it was old, covered in moss, and in undefinable shape. The words were slightly covered with vines and ivy.

Gingerly, Maia used used her forefinger and middle finger to push aside a strand of ivy. When she read the name, her eyes filled with tears and she sat heavily on a rock, the tips of her fingers on her right hand pressed against her mouth, the other hugging herself. She rocked back and forth, one tear tracing a line down her cheek.

"Auntie Fiona," she whispered. Her deceased aunt was the reason her grieving mother had moved to Thorne. Her father was in Manchester on business. Maia took a big breath of air and sniffed. She pushed her brown hair behind her ear with her trembling hand. She sniffed again, wiping her nose and eyes on her jacket sleeve. She looked down at the dirt and scuffed it with her brown booted foot before standing.

She too one last, long look at the grave before turning away.

"Hello Maia."

Maia jumped back and fell over the grave, landing hard on her right arm and bruising her tailbone. "Wha- who's there?!" she called in a panicky tone.

Someone chuckled. Maia looked around fruitlessly. The voice seemed to come from everywhere and from nowhere at the same time.

Maia shuffled back, still on the ground, until she bumped against the nearest tree. "Where are you?"

A figure moved out from the shadows. "Right here."

Maia stood quickly, brushing her grey skirt off. "Who are you? How do you know me?"

The figure moved closer. Maia could see it was a middle aged woman, with light green eyes, wispy strawberry blond hair and very pale skin. She came close enough that Maia could feel her warm breath. It smelled sweetly of spearmint.

"You will come to know me soon enough. And everyone knows you," she said softly.

Maia wrapped her arms around herself. "No one knows me. Why are you here?"

The woman gently caressed Maia's cheek with the back of her pale hand. her touch was surprisingly cold and Maia pulled away.

"I said, _why are you here?_" Maia asked sharply. The woman gave her a kind, saddened smile.

"I love this world. Your head created it all. However did you think it up?" she said.

Maia blinked. "I'm sorry?"

The woman cocked her head, oblivious to Maia's confusion. "Maia. An interesting name. It has the first two letters of your mother's."

Maia tensed. "My mother's name is Lauren."

The woman smiled serenely. "I meant your real mother."

Maia pulled herself up on tiptoes to look the woman in the eye. "If this is in my head, how come you know it?"

The woman put her hand on Maia's shoulder and looked her right in the eye. "Because I came into your head to find you," she said simply.

Maia pushed the woman's hand off her. "I should go home now."

The woman caught her wrist, still with the serene smile. "You are going home. You're waking up."

Maia started to feel light headed. The woman's touch was like ice, and the ice was spreading. It was in her head. Maia wobbled and caught herself on a tree before she fell. "Whatever you're doing, stop it," Maia gasped.

The woman cocked her head again, her grip on Maia's wrist tightening. "I am. This dream is my doing."

Maia put her free hand on her forehead. "If this is a dream, when do I wake up?"

The woman's smile broadened. "Now."


	2. Who You Are Is Always Hard To Find

**A conversation between Maia and you (the reader):**

You know how when you wake up, you still remember your dream, right? When I woke up my dream was all I could remember.

Then it slipped away from me and all I could remember was nothing.

* * *

Wrong. Wrong. Something was wrong.

Maia's world was nothing but a ringing in her ears and a grey mist encompassing everything. Maia tried to move, but her body wasn't hers anymore.

Then, although her eyes were already open, they _opened._

And all of a sudden, Maia was no longer Maia. Her mind was blank. Empty. Except for one thought:

_Wrong._

The girl was reeling, her vision naught but a rocky ceiling. Cold permeated her back and the cool stone felt so comfortable; unnaturally comfortable. Who was she? Where was she? _What_ was she?

"Her eyes are open; grab her!"

"Chain her!"

"Gag her!"

"Spell her!"

The girl felt cold hands grip her arms. Metal people's odd faces peered down at her. Voices banged around in her head. All around her. Nothing but gleaming silver, silver, silver. She screamed, thrashing, her arm lashing out to hit one, her curled fist bouncing off his metal face. Her wrist seemed to burst in pain, and she gasped.

Then she saw her hand.

The skin was a mint green, the long, hard, sharp fingernails a blood red. On her arm was the sleeve of a threadbare rag of a dress. She shifted her arm and her wrist became visible. The girl screamed again, for her wrist and arm were covered in black scales.

"Get her to stop thrashing!" said one of the metal people, his words muffled by his steel face. Her mind blank, the girl kicked out at a metal person, her foot connecting with his arm.

_Ri-i-i-i-ip! _The girl's dress ripped and she could see her leg; her foot was the same mint green, her leg above the ankle the same scaly black. the girl screamed again and again and again, her screams echoing in the cave. She thrashed, but the metal people held her down until finally, one thew a fist at her chin.

The girl's world faded into black.

* * *

"When life is naught but grey, we'll be born again as birds, then we shall fly away, and thought will turn to words," sang a soft, feminine voice.

The girl groaned, her eyes blinking open. Immediately, she felt odd, wrong. This body wasn't her body. She stood slowly, but her skinny legs weren't accustomed to holding her up and gave out. She fell forward, and jet-black hair fell in front of her face.

"When life is naught, you won't be born again," said the same voice. Far less kindly.

"Wh- wha-?" the girl stammered. Her voice seemed haunting, eerily beautiful. Not hers. The words felt strange on her tongue.

The girl looked up, and her eyes adjusted. She was in a small stone room with no torches, no windows, no nothing, except a metal door. The girl used the wall to stand, running her thin, elegant fingers on the stone. Her body felt awkward, as though she had gone to sleep and woken up years later to find her body had grown without her. She turned to the door, and saw bright yellow reflecting off it. Her eyes.

"Monster. We should have killed you," the voice continued. "You little witch."

The girl stumbled towards the door and leaned on it. "I don't understand," she said haltingly in her beautiful, haunting voice. "What's going on? What am I?"

The voice laughed. "Aw, the poor little monster is lost. Lost in her own body," the voice snarled.

The girl shivered and withdrew, pressing into the dim recesses of the room into the shadows. She wrapped her arms around herself, her thin, dirty rags meagre protection from cold. Her bare feet were numb.

"Who are you?" the girl lisped. Or the monster. She didn't know which.

"You'll come to know me soon enough."

With that, the voice disappeared. The girl sat in the shadowy corner, pulled her legs in and wept. She wept tears for what she had done, whatever it was, to deserve such hatred and contempt.

She wept until she had no tears left. Each of the girl's breath was like a little scream, small and quiet.

The girl threw her head back and wailed, the sound both frightening yet beautiful. It carried around the room, carrying out the door and into the unknown beyond. She closed her eyes and let the sound go from her blood red lips until her chest ached.

She put a hand to her chest, and noticed that her skin was mint green until her collarbone, where it turned to the same black scales. She let her hand drop, her chest rising and falling, her skeletal body shaking.

The girl suddenly felt anger; why did she deserve this? Her sadness and confusion mingled with the anger and she let out another wail, this one piercing and high, pouring out her soul.

The room disappeared; it was nothing but the endless, soulful, ringing around. The girl's eyes closed, and she wailed. When she ran out of breath, her eyes opened.

The door had a huge dent in it, as though her wail had become a giant fist and smashed the door. The girl's eyes went wide in wonder. She stood and walked over to the door slowly, fearfully. She fearfully held out her delicate and elegant hand, fingers trailing along the metal, before she gave the door a small push.

The door fell straight out with an ominous screech and loud bang. Silhouetted in the doorway was the girl, one hand still where the door had been, the other wrapped around her skinny, skeletal frame, matted black hair falling around her mint green face.

The girl stepped out into the hallway, trembling with fear and cold. On the right was a brick wall. On the left was a seemingly endless hall lit with glowing torches.

Slowly, the girl started left, her footsteps eerily quiet. After a while, the girl could see the outline of stairs at the end of the hall. Suddenly, the sound of pounding feet heralded the arrival of the metal people, running down the stairs, weapons held in their hands.

The girl froze, her eyes wide. Her hands trembled by her sides, splayed out. Slowly, she curled them into fists.

The metal people surrounded her, swords drawn, spears levelled. The girl stood still as an icy statue, her fists clenched to her sides, her head bowed, eyes lowered. A spear point pressed into her scaly back, but it's prick didn't hurt much.

"Well, well, well," said the feminine voice. The girl looked up to see a hauntingly familiar woman walking down the stairs. Her eyes were a light green, her wispy lemon yellow hair caught in an elegant bun, her creamy pale skin glowing in the torchlight. Her dress was a beautiful mix of light pink and yellow, and on her head was a golden crown with glittering emeralds and rubies.

From somewhere, from nowhere, the girl found a name. "Queen Leah," she almost breathed, her voice spooky. The guards shivered just hearing it, as though simply by speaking the name the girl had placed a death curse on the Queen.

The metal person's spear shoved deeper into the girl's back. "Don't you dare speak her name, witch!" the muffled voice threatened. The girl trembled, fists still clenched.

The Queen sneered. "So the little monster remembers me. But do you remember yourself?"

The girl trembled more fiercely, her clenched hands tightening. "Wh-who am I? Why am I here? Where is here?" The girl almost whispered, her voice so spooky that the metal person's spear trembled. The girl raised her head to look at the Queen, yellow gaze piercing, lingering.

"I asked a question," the girl said softly. "Questions are meant to be answered, are they not?"

Two metal people grabbed the girl's arms, their metal grip so tight the girl's wrists went numb. The Queen overlooked all this with a haughty look on her face.

"Your questions will be answered shortly, witch. Oh, and congratulations on breaking out. I'm afraid that's the first and last time it will ever happen."


	3. Absolute Terror

**A conversation between Maia and you (the reader):**

The thing is with having no memories, is that everything is just a big blank. You have nothing in your head. Nothing except the present.

And it's not much of a 'present' really.

And when something comes into you're head, you have no idea where it came from. Basically all you have is common sense and a really crappy here-and-now.

* * *

The metal people pulled the girl by her arms through endless seeming labyrinths of hallways. They pulled her past red and gold tapestries embodied with the royal crest of three golden crowns in a triangle with a rose in the centre over a red shield. They pulled her past whispering people and frightened cats and through courtyards and past windows and balconies and doors. Finally, they came to a huge set of double doors, which the metal people pushed open.

The room was huge, with a huge domed ceiling and wide floor space. Two huge banquet tables were in the room, one on the far left, the other on the far right. A long, huge red tapestry with the same crest hung in the centre of the far wall, two huge, floor-to-ceiling open windows beside it, opened to cloudy grey skies overlooking a huge stone balcony. In front of the tapestry were two large, ornate wood and gold thrones. Around the thrones, on the far side of the windows and squished against the wall were what looked like jury boxes, with noblemen and woman in extravagant clothing.

The metal people pulled the girl in front of the thrones and shoved her down onto her knees. She gasped in pain as her knees hit the cool stone, then bit her lip to stop the sound escaping.

The Queen (the girl knew she had seen her before) elegantly walked over to the two huge thrones and sat down on the left, her cold eyes never leaving the girl. A man in a velvety red and gold robe with white lining and a large golden crown sat on the other throne. His hair and short beard were a rich brown and his eyes were the same warm colour. But now, as the girl watched him, his eyes showed none of the warmth and kindness she expected to see.

"King Stefan," the girl whispered. The name simply came to her.

"Rynne of the Forbidden Mountain, daughter of Maleficent!" The king said in a powerful, booming, commanding voice.

"Rynne?" The girl asked. The king narrowed his eyes at her and the grip of the metal people tightened.

"Watch your mouth, monster," one hissed. "Show respect."

The King raised one eyebrow and leaned back in his chair. "So the enchantment to take her memories worked."

"What enchantment? What- who-?" the girl struggled to stand up, but the metal people held her down.

"Silence!" The King said, his hand raised. "As a known witch and daughter of the most powerful witch currently alive, the automatic sentence is execution."

The girl, or Rynne, stopped moving. The only sound was her heavy, panicked breathing.

* * *

**A conversation between Maia and you (the reader):**

There is nothing more terrifying than the sudden announcement you are going to die.

And there is nothing you can do about it.

The terror is a quiet sort of terror, one that freezes everything around you, slows the world done. It makes your breath come quickly, quicker, faster. There is a ringing in your ears, no sound but a quite murmuring and the blood pounding in your ears.

It makes you feel as though there is no hope. It leaves you feeling like a fish out of water, like instead of water to breath you needed hope to breath, and all the hope just vanished.

* * *

"However," the King continued.

Rynne felt like sighing in relief. She sagged into the arms of the metal people, letting loose the breath she had been holding. Feeling flooded back into her, and time started up again. Her heart resumed beating normally.

"Your circumstances are... unusual," the King sighed. "Killing you would have a certain consequence that I would prefer to not have to deal with." He spread his arms out to indicate the room around him. "My council shall now decide upon your fate!

Rynne stopped breathing once again.


	4. Tears Of Joy

**A conversation between Maia and you (the reader):**

There are times when you wonder why people have to have a consciousness. If we were like animals, pain would be a lot easier to deal with.

Or maybe, our conscious could leave our bodies for a short amount of time. So we wouldn't even have to feel the pain at all.

Why do even have to be people anyway? I didn't ask to be Maia. Or Rynne.

Or whoever I am.

* * *

First Rynne just froze. Her heart was sinking. She didn't know how, but she knew that whatever they decided, it wouldn't be good.

Suddenly, memories entered in her head. Not ones of Rynne, ones of a different life... she tried to grasp the name, on the tip of her tongue, but it escaped her.

M? May? The second name. H? O? Something like that.

But memories nonetheless, a mother, an aunt, a town called Thorne, a city called- Lore? Lord? London.

An Aunt.. Auntie? Yes, auntie. But who was she? Rynne desperately searched through the memories, pouring into her head. Auntie... Freya? Felicity?

Fiona. Auntie Fiona.

And she was dead.

Rynne barely heard the councillor read out the charges. She barely heard the long list, and the long list of possible punishments exempting death.

All Rynne heard was a voice.

"Maia!" called the voice. Maia. That was the name. "Maia!"

A pause. "Maia?"

Rynne's head pounded. The voice boomed in her head, although it felt like only a little child's. "Maia, can you hear me?"

Rynne pulled her arms out of the metal people's grip, clutching her head. "Mimi? Mimi Maia, it's me!" called the voice cheerily.

"Mimi?" The voice sounded panicky. "Maia, can't you hear me?" The voice became shrill. "Please, Maia, tell me you can hear me!"

"Me!" The last word echoed in her head, followed by a terrifying ringing silence. Her yellow eyes wide, finally, an answer came. "Brennie?"

"Mimi!" the voice sounded thrilled. "You remember me!"

"Brennan," Rynne whispered. Tears of happiness within her eyes spilled over. "My little brother."

"Maia!" Brennan cried happily. "I'm here! Mamma'll come, won't she?"

Rynne swallowed and thought back to him. _It's okay, Brennie. We're together now._

Rynne pictured a boy, grinning, in her head. She couldn't see his hair or eyes, only that he was grinning.

Another name came to her. O'Harris. Her last name.

"Maia O'Harris," she whispered. "Was that me?"

Suddenly, Rynne was knocked to the ground. In her head, Brennan screamed as she hit the floor.

The metal person kicked her with it's steel foot. "Get up!"

* * *

The King saw tears in the witch-girl's eyes. He smiled.

Good.

The little witch was hauled to her feet, the councillor below the King preparing the final verdict to be read out. The witch's eyes were brimming with shining tears, ready to spill over her cheeks, her lips... twisted in a smile of relief.

Suddenly, the King's smile faltered.

The witch's eyes were not filled with tears of fear or sorrow.

Her tears were of joy.


End file.
